


Ground Control

by TruerLyre (ButterfliesAndPenguins)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lowkey angst (like seriously it's Saeran), Mild Hurt/Comfort, No actual self-harm just internal panic, Saeran POV, Saeran POV while triggered but Elizabeth calms him down, Saeran will be okay I promise, Spoilers for secret endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterfliesAndPenguins/pseuds/TruerLyre
Summary: Saeran is feeling desperate while trapped in Saeyoung's house and finds an unlikely friend.
Post-secret endings, a few months after Saeran comes home from the hospital.





	

_Shit_.

Saeran tore at his hair until a small clump came away between his knuckles. The red roots were growing in, dull and ugly as individual strands. Saeran sucked in a breath through his teeth, feeling the muscles at his jaw jump like a glitching computer screen. His skin was crawling. Not like when cockroaches used to crawl over him when he was a child, on days he was alone and too weak to shake them off. More like snakes slithering through his veins, running down the fleshy parts, burrowing in his armpits. The Savior had always given him his medicine when it was like this, but it never helped. The feeling stayed, but he was left unable to do anything about it. But on days when he felt bold or particularly rebellious, he could sneak outside and trace thin lines where the snakes ran down his arms.

Today it felt wrong, to feel so cold inside a warm, close house. Everything was always too close to him here, too well-lit. Too cluttered. There was nothing useful right now in the room Saeyoung had set up for him. His brother had made sure of that. Saeran had never said anything, never let on about the chills that sometimes overtook him. He didn't even have any real evidence, he'd always been careful not to leave any lasting marks, or the Savior would have brainwashed him again for sure. But somehow, Saeyoung had guessed. He had known to mysteriously not have certain normal house supplies on hand the day Saeran arrived. He even had to ask for safety pins on loan, and with supervision.

Saeran stumbled to the bathroom. He'd already checked there weeks before, but in his desperation he hoped something had since magically appeared. Perhaps MC had slipped up and left something... Even a nail file might be enough on short notice....

Saeran yanked drawers open and ripped through their contents, knowing he was being loud enough to be discovered. He groaned childishly in frustration. Everything was plastic, combs with revolting tangles of MC's hair, extra toothbrushes, travel-sized shampoo bottles doubtlessly leftover from Saeyoung's stupid missions abroad... Damn it. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT. Why couldn't they just be a little more careless? Why did they have to knowingly take this from him? Why did they _care_ what he did to his own skin? Why did they want him to feel this frantic, this chaotic, with no way to stop the hurricane in his chest? He felt like his grip on reality was hanging by brittle fingernails.

Fingernails. He dug them into his arms, but instead of relief it only left him gasping for more. He was only teasing himself, and it made his vision blurry with hunger. He wished something would bite him, sink it's teeth in and not let go.

As if in reply, a meow came from behind him. That cat, the absurdly fluffy one with the half-squashed face (Saeran had always thought it was hideous), the one that man in the suit was absolutely idiotic for, was bonking its head against his ankles and dragging its cheeks against him. That's right. MC had offered to care for Elizabeth while Jumin was on a short business trip. Somehow she had managed to bring her to Saeyoung's house for the night. If Jumin ever found out, he would probably go ballistic. Saeran had half a mind to rat her out to him and watch the fallout, but it would be too much work. Besides, something about that Jumin guy deeply unsettled Saeran. Maybe it was his insistent outward calm, when he knew the man was screaming on the inside. Why didn't he just scream all the time? Saeran didn't even know how to stop.

The impulse to kick the cat across the bathroom floor and hear the thud against the wall, the shriek of her voice, passed through his mind, but even the Savior had always forbidden cruelty to any kind of animal. Saeran had always secretly wondered what it'd be like to cause another creature as much pain as he had been tortured with. He knew it might be the last straw if he harmed this cat. He'd be locked away for good this time, with only Jumin's stupid bodyguards for human contact. But that wasn't what stopped him. It wasn't even Elizabeth's clueless meowing that stayed his impulse. He wasn't sure why he stooped down to wrinkle his nose at the cat. But if he had to guess, he would say it might have just been a glance at her too-small, delicate, snowball-shaped paws.

Elizabeth was insistently rubbing against his pant leg. Saeran sank to his knees and tisked at her, still shaking with adrenaline. Thinking wishfully, he pushed up a sleeve of his borrowed hoodie and bared his forearm, holding it under the cat's nose.

"Bite it."

Elizabeth sniffed gingerly, jumping slightly when her wet nose dotted his skin and he flinched. She turned her wide, glassy eyes up to his.

"At least scratch me or something." Stupid pet. Domesticated. Brainless.

Elizabeth sniffed his skin again, then to his surprise ran two strokes of her sandy tongue along his arm. Saeran shivered uncomfortably.

"Ew," he brushed at the spot. How could cats' burred tongues still somehow be wet?

Losing interest, the cat knocked its cheek against his arm, rubbing its perfectly plush fur along his translucent skin, in complete dissonance to the sensation he was craving.

He wanted to snap at the clueless animal, but he was at a loss for what to say. The back of his mind still whirred fruitlessly, flipping through an index of possible objects he could use as instruments, but he knew he would find none of them within his reach. Unconsciously he traced a finger along the path Elizabeth's whiskers had drawn, pausing when he reached the base of his thumb. The cat took this opportunity to bury her face in his palm and pet herself against it, despite his apathy.

Saeran froze. A sputter of anger flared, then vanished, like a match strike that didn't light. Blinking, he accepted defeat, allowing the cat to dig it's cheeks against his fingernails. The tingling against his arms ran warmer, like an electric current, still throbbing. But he knew there was no quelling it. Absently, his fingers twitched up to drag against Elizabeth's forehead.

"What's your owner's problem?" Saeran asked the cat vaguely. "I don't see what's so great about you. Might be the only thing I agree with that ferret-faced excuse for an actor about..."

He pinched the paper-thin flesh of her ear between his fingertips experimentally, and to his surprise the cat leaned into his hand gratefully. Saeran winced, scratching her ears reluctantly. After a few moments he realized his breathing had slowed, syncing to match the rythym of the animal's low purring.

His hollow laugh echoed against the linoleum. "Why do they do this?" He asked, unsure who he was talking to anymore. He dragged a hand down her sleek back and along the tip of her absurdly poofy tail. "I honestly think you're just bragging," he mumbled.

The buzzing current beneath his skin was fading. He felt reluctant to lose it, the helplessness it brought was itself a hollow  comfort, but wasn't that just a sign of his own weakness? Elizabeth climbed gracelessly into his lap, greedily demanding his attention like the spoiled queen she was. Saeran decided not to bother interrogating himself for an answer. He tried to sigh forcefully, but his voice quavered slightly like back end of a sob. Glaring at the floor in defiance, he slumped until his chin brushed the fur of Elizabeth's neck. He closed his eyes and let it tickle the tip of his nose, burying his face in it and mumbling softly.

"You're warm."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to vent while feeling similarly, and it actually helped a lot. I hope everyone can find the buddy they need when they're feeling low. <3


End file.
